Chapter Twenty: Growth

"Xiaoliu?"

Liu Yu jerked his head up, startled by the voice, and in turn startled the speaker.

Lu Ge looked down at Liu Yu in surprise and reached out his hand. "Are you alright? Can't get up? Are you okay?"

Liu Yu shook his head and steadied himself against the wall as he stood up. His right hand pressed against his left arm, his face haggard, a cold sweat clinging to him. His hair, long overdue for a cut, was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes stuck to his skin.

Lu Ge patted him on the shoulder and helped him toward his own office. "Come, come, rest on the sofa in my office for a bit."

As the two walked past the open office area, they drew curious glances. Yu Guangchun even called out to ask after him. Liu Yu’s neck stiffened, his gaze dropping, but he caught sight of Yu Guangchun out of the corner of his eye, and involuntarily pressed his right hand harder against the skin of his left arm.

"It's nothing, really. Xiaoliu’s just under a lot of pressure," Lu Ge said with a laugh.

The others laughed too, offering words of comfort.

Once inside the office, Lu Ge shut the door and guided Liu Yu to the sofa. His tone was relaxed. "Don’t push yourself so hard. I know Old Yu’s a bit behind on the tech side and often needs your help, but he’s an old hand here—he was around when the big boss first started the company. You saw at the company party how the boss drank with him, right? He wrote the core code back then; he’s one of the company’s founding contributors. He’s always been learning, too. Didn’t he help you fill in all the comments last time? He even writes the weekly reports."

Liu Yu fell silent.

Yu Guangchun’s old code was littered with comments like cheap internet memes—dates and names, sometimes a line of encouragement, or even a random alpaca emoji rolling by as you scrolled. Some comments weren’t even his, but from other old employees who had since moved up or moved on. Only Yu Guangchun had remained at his old post, year after year.

Of course, these days, Yu Guangchun didn’t go in for such childish pranks. He worked overtime till eleven or twelve every night, sometimes all night, always racing the deadline to finish his work. He was the kind of programmer who joked about his own incompetence, never sure if he was writing code or bugs, the keyboard clattering away but with little to show for it.

Such a programmer would have been eliminated from the big tech firms long ago. But here, in their tiny company—barely skirting the edges of the internet industry, with just over fifty employees—he had stayed. The big boss was past fifty, only a little older than Yu Guangchun. Back in the day, they’d been young and full of drive together, and the original code still held the memory of those years. Now, Yu Guangchun struggled with his work while the boss worried more about his daughter’s college entrance exams and his son’s job hunt than the company’s business. Day-to-day operations were run by a senior employee-turned-professional manager, another old classmate of the boss, currently in the throes of a midlife crisis over his receding hairline.

Back during his internship, Liu Yu had overheard the admin, HR, and accounting ladies next door joking that the boss must have accumulated some rare good karma—how else could they afford oysters two years running at the annual party?

At first, Liu Yu thought this kind of small company was perfect: relaxed work, decent pay, a good job.

When he first joined, Yu Guangchun had been his mentor, helping him settle in and learn the ropes. He’d thought he’d lucked out with such a friendly senior. Who could have guessed how quickly things would deteriorate?

Liu Yu scratched at his left arm, that gnawing itch returning.

Lu Ge was gentle, patient, and genuinely caring. In fact, Yu Guangchun was kind too.

But unfinished work and inevitable overtime left Liu Yu exhausted in both body and mind.

"I know, Lu Ge, don’t worry. I understand," Liu Yu quickly interjected when Lu Ge paused. "Yu Ge is a good person, he’s looked after me well."

"Good. Take it easy. Don’t work late tonight—go home early for once. The work isn’t urgent," Lu Ge smiled. "There’s always more work, but your health comes first."

Liu Yu nodded gratefully.

Lu Ge was, truly, a model supervisor. The company environment was beyond reproach.

If only for one thing...

Liu Yu stood up, left the office, and glanced at Yu Guangchun’s back.

Yu Guangchun wasn’t typing, his hands resting on the keyboard, as if lost in thought over the code.

Liu Yu gripped his left arm, feeling again the sensation of something crawling beneath his skin.

He suppressed his fear and irritation, and returned to his desk.

"Back already, Xiaoliu?" Yu Guangchun turned and smiled at him.

Liu Yu didn’t respond, staring fixedly at his computer screen.

"There are some bugs to fix. I’ve sent you the file—could you take a look?" Yu Guangchun said with a troubled expression. "I can’t figure out where the problem is, it keeps throwing errors."

Liu Yu took a deep breath.

With each inhale and exhale, his skin seemed to expand and contract.

Those sharp spikes stealthily emerged, like thieves in the night.

But this time, Liu Yu sensed something different.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something moving under his sleeve.

At his wrist, a thin, dark brown tendril poked out from beneath the cloth. The tentacle-like thing, reminiscent of a garden eel but much shorter, could easily be overlooked. Yet there were many of them, densely packed, sprouting from every pore along his arm, pushing against the fabric, as if trying to wriggle free.

With a smack, Liu Yu hit his left arm with his right hand, heart pounding wildly.

Yu Guangchun jumped in surprise. "Is there a bug?"

Liu Yu shook his head vigorously, his face stiff as he stared at the screen.

Yu Guangchun hesitated, glancing at Liu Yu’s desk. "Didn’t you go for water? Did you leave your cup in the break room when Lu called you over?"

Liu Yu’s throat was dry; he couldn’t answer.

"I’ll go get some water, bring yours too," Yu Guangchun offered with a smile. "Don’t worry about what Lu said. You’re just too conscientious—don’t put so much pressure on yourself." He picked up his cup and stood, adding with a laugh, "Check the file, alright? I wrote that batch of code myself, and I can’t even tell what’s wrong with it!"

Liu Yu nodded mechanically.

He felt as if he could no longer suppress those things. Worse yet, after his slap, they seemed to have tangled together, merging into one.

Once Yu Guangchun left, Liu Yu glanced around—everyone was busy. Carefully, he lifted his sleeve.

Sure enough, the things had fused into a single mass, like a rough, uneven armor covering his skin, or a hideous scar left by a severe burn.

Liu Yu gasped, head spinning. The black-brown mass shuddered and slowly seeped back into his skin, vanishing once more.

His scalp prickled with terror.

What should he do? See a doctor? Go to the dermatology department at a top hospital? Could a doctor even diagnose this? Some kind of parasite? Or was he simply hallucinating?

His mind was a whirlwind of anxious thoughts, when suddenly his pupils contracted—black lines appeared beneath his skin. No crawling bugs, no spikes, no wriggling tentacles this time; just viscous, black-brown fluid seeping from his pores, coating the surface in scar-like patches.

Thud.

"Here’s your cup. I got you some water," Yu Guangchun said, setting the cup on Liu Yu’s desk before taking his own seat and sipping contentedly.

Liu Yu hurriedly pulled down his sleeve, letting his left arm droop unnaturally as he stared blankly at the screen.

"Did you get the file?" Yu Guangchun asked.

Creak, creak...

Liu Yu heard an odd sound, as if something were surging through his veins.

He swallowed hard and grabbed his mouse with his right hand. "I'll check it now."

"No rush. If you’re unwell, I’ll tell Lu for you."

Liu Yu shook his head firmly again.

Yu Guangchun turned his attention back to his own work, tapping away at the keyboard intermittently.

Liu Yu knew Yu Guangchun wasn’t slacking off; nonetheless, the scattered rhythm of the keystrokes made the blood in his veins feel all wrong.

Creak, creak...

The strange sound seemed to echo the rhythm of Yu Guangchun’s typing, as if reacting to the noises around him.

Liu Yu glanced down discreetly.

He was instantly petrified.

His left hand was entirely encased in that black-brown substance, swollen as if he wore an ill-fitting oven mitt. The five fingers drooped and lengthened, then lifted at the tips like five snakes, rising and flicking forked tongues in Yu Guangchun’s direction.

Bang!

Yu Guangchun turned in alarm and saw Liu Yu slumped over his desk.

Liu Yu cradled his left hand to his chest, pinning down the serpentine tendrils with his right hand, hunching over to hide the grotesque thing.

Yu Guangchun made no move to investigate, merely noticing Liu Yu’s trembling back.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"No... I just... I just can’t figure out this code you wrote," Liu Yu stammered, drenched in sweat, fumbling for an excuse.

Yu Guangchun paused, then chuckled at himself. "I can’t make sense of it either. I wrote all those comments, but reading them now, I’m more confused than ever."

A few colleagues burst out laughing. Those who knew Yu Guangchun well started to tease him.

Yu Guangchun took it all in stride, smiling as he joined in the self-mockery.

Everyone seemed to be in high spirits.

This was the kind of office atmosphere Liu Yu had once adored.

"...Xiaoliu, what are you having for lunch? It’s almost time," someone called from the doorway.

"Why are you only asking Xiaoliu? Got a new favorite and forgot the old-timers?" someone joked.

Lin Xiaoyu from admin rolled her eyes. "Because you keep calling me 'Sister Lin.' For lunch, I’ll order you potato shreds sautéed with ginger."

"No, please—"

Laughter filled the room.

Yu Guangchun named a restaurant, another colleague suggested a different regular haunt.

Liu Yu kept silent, waiting until everyone had made their choices before stating his own order.

He felt the restless snakes in his chest finally settle.

Glancing down, he saw the five snakes intertwine into a massive tumor.

The tumor shrank into his sleeve like a deflated balloon, leaving his sleeve perfectly intact.

Gone again...

Liu Yu was both alarmed and bewildered.

"I’ll place the order then. Is everyone’s choice correct?" Lin Xiaoyu confirmed.

A chorus of “yes” and “go ahead” filled the office.

Liu Yu exhaled in relief.

...

In the dark screening room, there was a chorus of clicking tongues, followed by outbursts of laughter and crying, the room in an uproar.

After a while, the voices faded, leaving only the image of Liu Yu’s sweat-drenched face in close-up on the projection screen.

Uneasy, he shifted his left arm, resting his hand on the keyboard tray, his gaze flitting between his arm and the computer screen.

Tap, tap... tap, tap, tap...

He tapped the keyboard a few times, flexing his left hand, gradually relaxing.

His eyes refocused on the screen.

Seeing what he had just typed, Liu Yu quickly deleted it, grabbed the mouse, and opened the file Yu Guangchun had sent. His expression grew intensely focused.

On the sofa, the doctor yawned, picked up the remote, and pressed the fast-forward button.

The camera followed Liu Yu, quickly skipping through his lunch and midday break, then zooming in on his focused work at his desk.

For a while, Liu Yu seemed to forget all about his left arm.

The camera panned slightly, swinging over to the workspace beside him. It was empty. Apparently, Yu Guangchun had not returned after lunch. All afternoon, only Liu Yu was at the computer, working away.

The office windows faded from bright to dim, the world outside shifting from sunny blue to sunset orange.

On screen, Liu Yu stretched, then rested his hands on his knees and rolled his neck.

The doctor pressed play on the remote.

...

"Heading out now."

"I’m off."

"Xiaoliu, aren’t you leaving?"

"Is Yu Ge still in that meeting?"

"Probably another big client. I heard at the company party..."

"Xiaoliu, want to grab dinner with us?" Lin Xiaoyu, the same one from lunch, poked her head in at the door.

The remaining colleagues started to tease him again.

Liu Yu quickly explained, "Yu Ge and the others are still in their meeting."

"They’re not done yet, and they asked me to order food. Do you want to join us or go out?" Lin Xiaoyu asked matter-of-factly. "Their meeting will go on for a while. No need to rush if you’re working late."

"Come on, Xiaoliu, don’t chicken out—go for it!"

"Walk Sister Lin home after dinner, forget about working late."

"Yeah, it’s not like any of it’s urgent."

But Liu Yu declined. "I’ll just have takeout too. Once you’ve ordered, you should head home early—I’ll handle the food delivery."

With Yu Guangchun still in the meeting, he could code quietly for a while. This whole afternoon had been peaceful: no itching, no strange changes in his left arm.

Liu Yu touched his left arm.

He vaguely realized that these bizarre changes, like the earlier itching, were some kind of psychosomatic reaction. Maybe nothing had happened physically at all, and it was all in his mind.

With this thought, Liu Yu glanced uneasily at Yu Guangchun’s desk.

Lin Xiaoyu showed neither disappointment nor pleasure, simply placing the order and reminding Liu Yu to fetch the food before leaving for the day.

Soon, the offices quieted down, and Liu Yu could hear voices from deeper in the workspace.

The indistinct chatter didn’t reveal who was speaking or what was being said, but Liu Yu knew it was the meeting group: Yu Guangchun, Lu Ge, a few department heads, and key staff.

Lu Ge and the others always said the work wasn’t urgent, but how could that be true? If he slipped up, everyone else would have to work late, or worse, the company could lose a major contract.

Leaning back in his chair, Liu Yu surveyed his afternoon’s work and exhaled.

His gaze drifted, his focus dissolving until he found himself staring at Yu Guangchun’s desk.

Yu Guangchun’s mug sat beside the mouse. The logo on it was faded, similar to the one on Liu Yu’s own cup but not quite the same—it was the company’s original symbol. The inside was stained by years of accumulated coffee and tea.

Liu Yu had never seen Yu Guangchun drink anything, but he could imagine that before he joined, or even long before, Yu Guangchun must have had that habit.

He stared at the cup for some time, until a strange hand appeared at the edge of his vision, snapping him back to reality.

The hand looked like something from a special-effects film—a monster’s tentacle, five fingers splayed, the back covered in scale-like armor. The fingers elongated toward Yu Guangchun’s mug, the tips sprouting odd fleshy buds that burst with a pop, spraying viscous, dark green liquid. The fingers continued to grow, dripping slime, inching closer, closer, ever closer to Yu Guangchun’s mug...